


Happy Birthday, Asshole

by AMaroonKindOfOrange (XylB)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, get that good shit in there, god that sounds so clinical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/AMaroonKindOfOrange
Summary: Uh, basically what the tags say. Someone gets a little birthday gift.





	Happy Birthday, Asshole

"Oh god, Simmons," Grif sobs, and Simmons grins because it's the best kind of noise. He scissors his fingers again and licks into the space between them, teeth rubbing against the rim of Grif's hole.

"Simmons, _please_ ," and Grif sounds so good when he begs Simmons almost gives in, but instead he uses his free hand to slap Grif's ass, enjoys the clench of his hole and the little whine that comes from him.

"What's the matter?" Simmons asks, easing in a third finger and listening to the slide of it in the lube.

"Simmons, for fuck's sake - " a curl of fingers and Grif shudders violently " - d-don't make me say it!" God, Simmons wishes he could see the flush on Grif's face.

"Say what?" Asked as innocently as he can with three lube and spit-slicked fingers up Grif's ass. Grif smashes his face into the pillow and groans unintelligibly. "Wa' 'o f' 'e."

"What was that?"

Grif raises his head ever so slightly and says, "Wan' you to fuck me," before burying his face again just in time to muffle a pathetic whimper as Simmons scrapes over that little bump under his fingers.

"There we go," Simmons says, almost purrs, and he withdraws his fingers with a wet 'pop!'. He gives Grif's hole one last dirty-wet kiss before straightening, shuffling forward on his knees so his cock hits Grif's ass.

Simmons takes a moment to admire the view as he slicks himself up. Grif's on his knees, ass up, face in the pillow, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so tightly his knuckles are bright white. Simmons lays a hand on the small of Grif's back, his thumb laying right over the smooth seam where their skin joins on Grif's body, and he circles a hand around his dick, pressing the head to Grif's hole.

"You ready?"

Grif turns his head and Simmons sees the spit stain on the pillowcase as he does.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" He pants, slanting a glare at Simmons.

Simmons shrugs. "Fine, then." And he thumbs the head in, listening to the hitch in Grif's breath and noting the tension in his back because Grif may be snarky and impatient, but fuck if Simmons hurts him.

Grif groans low and guttural as Simmons steadily pushes in, stretching Grif on his cock.

When he's in all the way, he pauses, curls his hand over Grif's hip.

"Tell me when."

Grif pushes up on one hand and reaches behind him with the other, hitting somewhere around Simmons' shoulder. "God, just - get down here, you asshole," he mutters, and Simmons goes down willingly, sliding his hand up Grif's back until it tangles in his hair. Grif puts his own hand on the back of Simmons' neck and kisses him.

It's sloppy and uncoordinated and they're at the wrong angles, but Simmons doesn't care.

"You taste like ass," Grif says when he pulls away, breathless.

"Yeah, your ass." Although Grif doesn't really mind the taste, judging by the way he melts into the next kiss. God, he's so relaxed Simmons can lick all the way to his fucking _molars_. Simmons really wants to just stay here and make out with Grif (a guilty pleasure that Grif indulges and strangely doesn't comment on), but his dick's starting to ache from how fucking hard he is and he has to pull away.

"You good?" He asks with a graze of his teeth over Grif's bottom lip. Grif sighs and gives him a lazy smile.

"Go for it."

So Simmons straightens again, untangles his hand from Grif's hair and plants it in between in his shoulder blades. They flex underneath his fingertips as Grif shifts so he's supported by both of his arms.

Simmons slides out slowly, biting his lip at how fucking _tight_ Grif is, and he watches himself sink back in, every fucking inch until his hips hit Grif's ass. He gives a few experimental thrusts but he's not getting quite the right reaction so he knocks Grif's knees a little wider and forces Grif down onto his forearms and the next thrust gives him the moan he's looking for.

"Yeah, that's it," he mumbles, mostly to himself. He fucks in faster and tightens his grip on Grif's hip. Grif, for his part, just groans into the pillow and rocks back into his thrusts.

When Grif starts choking out Simmons' name and shaking under him, Simmons pushes him down so he's flat on his chest and hikes his hips up. Grif moans and Simmons' hand slips in the sweat on his back.

Simmons stutters out these little huffing noises and fucks harder, hips slapping against Grif.

Grif whines his name, the end breaking dangerously close to a sob. Simmons chuckles through his panting and spanks Grif with his free hand.

Grif comes with a shout and a shudder, squeezing hard enough to trigger Simmons' own orgasm.

"Fuck," Simmons spits, doubling over as his hips stutter and still.

God, Grif's coming completely untouched and Simmons doesn't think he's seen anything hotter. Grif's tensing so fucking beautifully under his hands, one of Grif's hands hitting the bed as he trembles uncontrollably.

Simmons has to close his eyes because his vision's blurring and his fingers dig into Grif's hip as he comes.

Grif slumps down below him, forcing Simmons to follow with his dick still in the mess of come and lube.

"Fuck," Grif sighs into the pillow. Simmons laughs breathlessly and presses gentle kisses to Grif's neck.

"Yeah, it was that," he murmurs into the sweaty skin.

Simmons has to pull out eventually, and he reluctantly does so with a groan.

"Startin' to crush me there," Grif grunts once Simmons has lifted off of him. He turns into his side and swats at Simmons' ribs so he settles down across from him.

Simmons hums in agreement and just kind of - looks - at Grif for a few moments. Grif, uncomfortable with the scrutiny and a little worried Simmons might say something irretrievably sappy, wraps an arm around Simmons' waist and pulls him closer, kissing him gently when he's in reach.

"Happy birthday, asshole," he says as he scoots Simmons closer. Simmons blushes and shifts to hide his face in the space between Grif's neck and the bed.

"Thanks." It's muffled, but Grif hears it. He flings a leg over Simmons' and grins when Simmons doesn't fight him. Simmons didn't used to like all the physical contact, but Grif broke him down. Or, well, Simmons got - comfortable with it, rather. Comfortable with him, anyway, since he still refuses to touch anyone else for more than five seconds.

Simmons finds Grif's hand in the almost negative space between their bodies and tangles his own with it. Grif stiffens with surprise - Simmons isn't usually so forward - but he relaxes into the touch and squeezes gently.

He feels Simmons' smile on his shoulder.


End file.
